


What Else

by coveryourheads (rsk110)



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Amputee Bucky Barnes, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Depression, It Gets Better, M/M, PTSD, Suicide Attempt, Unreliable Narrator, heavy angst?!!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-22
Updated: 2017-05-30
Packaged: 2018-09-01 13:43:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 18,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8626741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rsk110/pseuds/coveryourheads
Summary: It starts out like any other stories.  Boy sees a boy.  Boy befriends the boy.  Boys become best friends.  Boy falls in love with boy.  Boy can’t have boy.  Boy goes off and comes back, falls in love with boy again.  Boy gets his heart broken.  Again.  Again.  And again.  Boy gets a single text message after months.  Boy stands with his hand hovering over the heavy handle of the church double doors.  Boy can’t enter.  Boy tries to forget.  Boy tries so hard.  Heart is so broken.  Again.  And again.(Chapter 2 is Steve POV.)





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> to explain some of the tags before you get any farther:  
> suicide attempt - bucky doesn't consider heavy consumption of alcohol and aspirin a suicide attempt and tries to explain it as such (it's in the first part)  
> bucky has depression and ptsd and a lot of internal monologues  
> there's a very short semi-descriptive sexual scene that can be skipped  
> there's a lot of angst, like maudlin, heavy angst

   

    

“I’m not okay,” Bucky admits.  He shakes his head, covers his eyes but doesn’t end up crying. 

It starts out like any other stories.  Boy sees a boy.  Boy befriends the boy.  Boys become best friends.  Boy falls in love with boy.  Boy can’t have boy.  Boy goes off and comes back, falls in love with boy again.  Boy gets his heart broken.  Again.  Again.  And again.  Boy gets a single text message after months.  Boy stands with his hand hovering over the heavy handle of the church double doors.  Boy can’t enter.  Boy tries to forget.  Boy tries so hard.  Heart is so broken.  Again.  And again. 

“I saw myself…  staring at the bottle and just…  I wanted to make this headache go away.  After the first two pills, I wanted to fall asleep.  I didn’t want to go get water.  I grabbed the first bottle that came to view.  It was whiskey.  I kept swallowing the pills with whiskey.  I wanted to…  sleep.  I wanted to forget.  I wanted it all to stop,” Bucky sniffs.  “I didn’t ever think, ‘I want to die.’  Never.  Not once.  I just wanted to sleep.  I…  I know I’m not okay.” 

Bucky plays with the cigarette in between his fingers.  He knows he can’t smoke inside but Sam doesn’t stop him from fiddling with it.  Sam encourages him to either keep talking or stop completely.  He doesn’t get forced to do anything.  Except the no smoking thing.  He’s okay with it.  Really.  He eyes the clock.  There’s ten minutes left.  He can’t cry.  He doesn’t have anything else to say.  He wants to leave. 

“You can leave early, James, if you want.” 

Bucky remains, fidgeting in his seat, with the slightly bent cigarette in his fingers.  He counts the seconds in his head.  Seven more sixty seconds.  He blinks heavily.  He sips the water in a paper cup sitting on the wide coffee table.  There’s an art book next to it.  It looks used but doesn’t belong here on the unvarnished coffee table of his therapist's office.  It’s a collection of modern paintings.  He flips through the pages and stops at one.  Sam quirks a brow. 

“This painting…  I thought…  I could smell it…  And he laughed at me.”  Bucky smiles at the memory.  Standing in front of the painting, being hit with the breeze, the scent of apricots, fresh cut grass.  Steve...  It creates a twinge of sadness inside his ribs.  Bucky is adored in that moment by the man he loves.  He loves the painting but it breaks his heart.  How and why does a _painting_ break his heart.  “A fucking painting…” 

“Time’s up, James.” 

Bucky shuts the book.  His fingers linger over the smooth cover. 

“You are doing great, James.  I’m proud of you.  You’re still having internal dialogues that you should say out loud.  But you’re getting better.” 

“See you next week.”  Bucky says, walking out of the office, sticking the bent cigarette between his lips. 

“James!”  Sam pokes his head out the door.  “Seriously, man.  You’re doing great!” 

Bucky manages a half smile.  As soon as he’s outside, he lights the cigarette and walks towards the bus stop.  He digs his phone out of his pocket.  He’d promised Nat to text her as soon as he got out today.  She wants to have dinner at this new Ethiopian place that opened up near her apartment.  There’s a new text message.  Bucky opens it. 

Bus pulls up, stops, opens the door, shuts and rolls away. 

Bucky remains standing, staring into the screen. 

<Hey, Buck, I need to talk to you.  I’m… getting a divorce.> 

    

\---   

    

“You can’t marry her.  You can’t!  You don’t fuckin’… Love her!” Bucky yelled into the phone.  He never liked yelling.  Now he was.  It didn’t feel too good, only necessary.  Nat told him to stay over as long as he needed.  Clint offered to hold onto his phone, so he wouldn't make phone calls like this at ass-o-clock in the middle of the night.  He should have taken up on those offers.  “You don’t love her, Steve.  You love…  You love me!  You.  Love.  Me.” 

“Bucky…” 

“You love me!!  You said you wanted to try to date other people.  You got tired of hiding me, hiding the truth.  That!  That I agreed to…  But you can’t marry her!  You don’t even…  How do you…  You can’t do this to me…  Don’t do this to me…” 

“Bucky.  Please…” 

“I love you.  Don’t…  Steve, don’t…”  Bucky sobbed into his palm.  “I love you.” 

“Please take care of yourself, Buck.  Please.  Promise me.” 

Bucky openly cried, unable to stop it.  He never cried like this before.  Never. 

“No, Steve…  Don’t…  Don’t---“ 

“I gotta go, Buck.  I gotta go.” 

“Don’t…  Steve, please, no.” 

I’ll die. 

You don’t mean it. 

“Stev---“ 

He couldn’t even call Nat.  Buried his face into the pillow that still held Steve’s scent, soaking it away.   

    

\---    

   

The thing about Steve that Bucky loves and hates is that he’ll sacrifice himself for just about anybody because he can’t bear to disappoint them.  All except Bucky.  Because Bucky is dispensable.  Because Steve believes Bucky will not leave him for any reason.  Because Bucky can’t bear to see Steve upset, can’t leave him alone and loves him despite of everything. 

Steve had a missing front tooth when Bucky met him for the first time.  Play-date, their moms set up, being neighborhood friends.  Bucky had asked the small blonde boy how old he was, who replied, "Six." 

“I’m seven.  I don’t want to play with no baby!” 

“Steeb ain’t no baby!”  Steve yelled with a small lisp and tiny whistles through the missing tooth. 

“Baby!” 

“No I ain't!”  Steve had pushed him, and Bucky fell back, not expecting the smaller boy to be so strong.  Elbows scraped, butt hurting, Bucky had whimpered, not from the pain but because he was surprised.  Tears had gathered and fell heavy from his eyes.  Steve had looked like he was going to cry too.  And Steve, he’d wrapped his small hands around Bucky’s face.  “I’m sorry!!” 

Bucky had shaken his head but only resulted in more tears. 

“I’m sorry James!  I am!” 

And Steve’s bright blue eyes… 

“I won’t hurt James ever again!  I will protect James!” 

Big bright blue eyes staring into his eyes with so much conviction. 

“Call me Bucky.  My friends call me Bucky.” 

“Bucky…” 

Steve… 

Bucky hadn’t known at the time that Steve is the only nephew of the current CEO of Rogers Industries.  He hadn’t known at the time that Steve would be adopted when his mother passes away a few years later.  He hadn’t known then that Steve would be groomed starting day one to take over the position of CEO some day.  He hadn’t known that Steve would feel obligated to do whatever it takes, because Stark will want to absorb Rogers Industries and Pym will offer a merger, and he won’t want either of those.  He hadn’t known that Steve would leave him, marry a girl, because he needs to be perfect and the girl is perfect and Bucky is not. 

Bucky hadn’t known at the time.  He’d only known the indelible blues of Steve’s eyes, the missing tooth and the brilliant smile of a boy. 

Inevitably… 

As much as he understands, probably better than everyone else in the world, the reasons behind all the decisions in Steve’s life, he wishes for just a moment that Steve is a bit selfish and less selfish when it concerns Bucky.  Even so, all he knows even in the worst moments of their relationship are the blues of Steve’s eyes and his cleverness… and his daunting smile… 

    

\---    

    

“Sorry.  I couldn’t make it to your wedding,” Bucky apologized into the phone when it connected without preamble.  He didn't say that he stood behind the heavy doors, listening to the music as the bride marched down the aisle to marry the man of his... dreams?  His heart?   

“It’s…  I understand.” 

Silence followed so long Bucky checked his phone several times to make sure it was still connected. 

“Buck…” 

“Hey.  I get it.  I do.” 

“Can I see you?  We’re still friends, right?  Can I still see you?” 

“I’m leaving.” 

“What do you mean you’re… leaving?” 

Bucky chewed his lower lip for a moment.  “I joined the Army.  I’m leaving for basic tomorrow.” 

“What? Why?”  Steve uncharacteristically stuttered. 

“Pays for my school loans.” 

“I can…  I can pay them!” 

“Why would you do that?” 

“Because, Bucky, you can’t…!” 

“I can.  I am.  I’m leaving…”  You.  He didn’t say that part.  He could let his heart break over and over again but he still couldn’t make himself break Steve’s.  Because he still loved him so fucking much. 

“I’m sorry!  Bucky, I’m sorry!  If I can…  Change it all, I would.  I don’t…  I didn’t mean for any of this!” 

“But you did them, Steve.”  This is it.  “I’m leaving.  This is my choice.  Goodbye, Steve… Bye.” 

“Buck--!” 

He took the battery out of the phone, tossing the pieces into the last box.  Tomorrow, everything was being moved into storage in Nat’s garage.  Just a small duffel of clothes and toiletries over his shoulder.  He was ready to go.  Because he _knew_ Steve. 

Because just like Bucky thought, Steve would burst into the apartment an hour later, face wet and panicked.  Other than the boxes piled neatly to one side, it would be empty.  Steve would miss Bucky by twenty three minutes, unable to change his mind. 

Because it was the right thing to do at that time. 

    

\---    

    

Natasha knows more than anyone about Bucky's side of the story.  Clint knows some, from pieces told by drunk Bucky, but Nat has gone through all of them with him.  Like in middle school, when Bucky had kissed Nat and she’d punched him in the solar plexus, and each apologized immediately.  And then Bucky saying that he doesn’t get it, he doesn’t feel anything when he kisses Nat, and she questions him.  An older boy from the high school had kissed him and Bucky had felt chills in his ribs and tickles in his loins.  Nat had stared at him for so long, trying to understand both things. 

In high school, Bucky had gotten back in touch with Steve Rogers.  Nat had taken the trip on the bus and transfers on subways into Manhattan to see him with Bucky.  Steve had gotten bigger already, from this tiny, scrawny kid in Bucky's pictures into a six-foot, one hundred ninety pound… man… and Bucky had been in awe.  (Steve would get three inches taller and gain another fifty pounds in muscles over the next five years or so, and Bucky would love it even more.)  Nat had held his hand beneath the tiny round coffee shop table because Bucky couldn’t stop fidgeting.  Steve had worn his fancy private school uniform, bashfully, and kept playing with and messing up the perfectly parted prep school haircut. 

“Did you get… a tattoo, Bucky?” 

Nat had quirked her brow at the nickname because he was James, not Jim or fucking Jimmy.  He’d worn his too tight jeans with too many tears and had taken off the hideous military jacket to a pleasantly revealing, definitely see-through white tee shirt.  Nat had approved of this outfit, but she could tell by Steve’s blush that it didn’t meet his approval.  Or he liked it too much and didn’t want others ogling him.  Same difference, really. 

“Just fucking around with some friends.”  There had been a new design on his left upper arm, an outline of a star, and some words around it in Russian.  Bucky had rolled up the short sleeve to show his friend and there it was, Steve, flushing to the ears, down beneath the perfectly ironed collars of his neck.  He had pulled up his shirt to show him the marks over his ribs, over his hip bone near where the jeans hugged low his waist.  Steve's eyes were full of lust and...  Nat had pulled Bucky's shirt down to cover him back up.  "Do you like them?" 

"I do...  They're...  Nice, Buck." 

On the way back, in the corner of the subway train where they sat, sharing earbuds and listening to the song Nat had chosen for one of her dances, Bucky had whispered to her, “Fuck, I wanted to fuck him right then and there.  Fucking… Hot as fucking fuck.” 

She hadn’t said, so are you.  She’d watched him stretch out one long leg in to the empty aisle.  She’d studied people around them eyeing him from head to toe, so she held him tighter against her.  Because she’d always wanted to protect him from a lot of things he got into. But for some reason, she couldn’t do anything about Steve Rogers because, Bucky had never smiled like that, eyes never shined that bright, and looked so stricken and enthralled and sad at the same time. 

“I should ask him out.  Should I?  I mean…  I should.  Even just…  A friend-date.  I just want to see him so bad.  Be in the same space as him.” 

“You could write poetry about him.” 

“Shut up.” 

“I think you should ask him out.  On a real date.” 

Because she lost to that smile, both hands in the air, waving a huge white flag. 

Even though she had predicted the inevitable.  Because even though she wants to, she can't protect him from himself.   

Bucky comes over to her and Clint’s apartment again, drunk again, reeking of cigarettes, without preamble yet so predictably.  Bucky is trembling and teetering from side to side, more than usual.  He almost rips the jacket off until Clint helps him out of it.  He climbs on to their couch.  He’s crying.  Nat stands there, arms crossed over her breasts and waits. 

“Fuck you, Nat, I know…  What you’re gonna say…” 

“Fuck you, James.  It’s Tuesday night.” 

He’s sobbing.  The left sleeve is pinned up just beneath where it’s been…  shot off, blown off, just, shit happened to, that Bucky still won’t coherently talk to her about.  He looks miserable, even more than his usual.  His hair needs a cut desperately and even though a few days’ worth of stubbles make his jaws look incredible, right now he looks homeless.  A homeless veteran, which Bucky is, only half of. 

Clint is trying to get him to drink water.  Well, Clint has the morning off.  Nat is about to flip her shit and kick him out.  She’s got matinee and evening for three days in a row and she hates the current production. 

“He’s getting a divorce.  He wants to see me.” 

Mother of all hell…    

    

\---    

    

It’s a fucking painting.  No matter how many times he sees it, it’s just a fucking painting.  What is it about this painting?  Why is it so empty and so lifeless when he’s standing in front of it, alone?  When he’d been with Steve, he could feel the breeze over his face, tasted the apricots on his tongue. 

Steve likes to fuck him with his face in the mattress, lights turned off completely.  There’s slivers of lights from the sliver of spaces between the blinds.  Whites of passing by cars.  Red and blues of police cars, the muted siren from far away ambulances.  Steve likes to fuck him open with his fingers, with his tongue until Bucky begs him to do it, to put it the fuck in, right the fuck now or I’ll kick you in the fucking face, please, please, please fuck me, Stevie.  His hands are folded behind his back so he needs to support his weight on his shoulders and forehead while Steve fucks him open.  Steve holds him up with his arm around his waist, other hand and fingers trailing over his sweaty skin, pinching his side and thigh, fucking his fist over his dick until he screams out his orgasm.  Steve likes to fuck him hard and wet, the squelching sounds and skin slapping enough to turn Bucky back on, again, third or fourth time already. 

“Fuck you, Stevie,” Bucky would mumble.  “You fuck so gorgeously, Steve.” 

“You’re such a good boy for me.  Such a good boy.” 

“Come in my mouth, please, please, please.” 

Steve would oblige.  And fuck him into the mattress again, this time tongue fucking his mouth. 

It’s only a painting and it looks good hanging on a wall in a grand museum but that’s all it is.  It’s only a painting. 

He wants to rip it off the wall and tear it into pieces. 

Steve won’t like to fuck him again with his hands crosses behind his back because…  He’s only got one hand now.   

Steve’s face is all over the Forbes magazine this month.  He can’t buy a pack of smokes without seeing Steve’s perfect fucking face and his blue eyes.  The photo got them all wrong, the color of his eyes.  It might have been the photographer, or the lighting person, or the photoshop editor.  Whoever messed with them got the color all wrong.  It’s bluer than that, lighter, with small specks of green.  Bucky would know, because he used to agonize over them, just stare into his eyes, for hours. 

He’s losing his mind because of the painting and the magazines and Steve’s voice and his words and his fucking divorce that's got nothing to do with him.   

    

\---    

    

Nat flew down when he was finally shipped over across the Atlantic, in a long sedated trip.  In an airplane, of course, with mostly injured soldiers cleared to return home, and a civilian doctor.  After a week in the Army med center, he was finally lucid enough to call someone.  He called Nat.  Nat flew down. 

The first words she said to him was, “I’m going to fucking kill you James Buchanan Barnes.” 

And she cried. 

And she hit him.  He didn’t feel a thing because he was so doped up on painkillers.   

“What about your production?  Aren’t you the Prima or something?” 

“Fuck you.  You know I’m nothing like that yet!” 

Bucky tried to laugh.  Once they both calmed down enough, he lifted the blanket to show her.  It was still all bandaged up.  It still felt like it was there.  Like he could move his fingers and wrap his hand around Nat’s smaller ones. 

“Oh James.” 

The greens of her eyes were sparkling with unshed tears.  She was a such beautiful girl.  Too beautiful to be wasting her time on him.  He was grateful for that. 

“It hurt so much.  I was so…  So scared.  Nat.  It hurt…” 

She held him through it.  She held his arm through the week.  She flew back to New York after a week to try to find him a good place to settle again.  He got discharged three months later.  He took a cab to her place straight from the airport.  The small apartment had two smaller bedrooms where he could stay as long as he needed.  Things he'd left in her parents’ garage were in there.  Clint came home as soon as he finished his shift and embraced him so hard he thought his ribs would shatter. 

Nat’s parents came by from Brooklyn the same evening.  They’d dropped off his things from their garage so they’d known when he would be returning.  He was hugged for so long.  He didn’t mind it at all.  Nat’s mom came prepared to feed a much bigger family than the five of them.  All of his favorite Russian dishes, plus her specialties. 

“I’ll go back to school.  Get a Master’s degree.  It should help?  Jobs are scarce and I got the money now.” 

It was easier than he thought.  Going back to school, getting back into things.  Except it wasn’t.  He took a leave from school after one semester.  Moved out into a tiny studio much to Nat’s disagreement.  Drank too much whiskey with too many aspirins one night and had his stomach pumped.   

“You need to stop making me cry, James Buchanan Barnes.”  Nat’s voice broke his heart when he woke up in a hospital bed. 

Foolishly, the first person he wanted to see when he forced his eyes open was the boy who broke his heart.  The boy who was the reason he was in this mess in the first place.  Stupid, Barnes, real stupid. 

“I’m sorry Nat.  I’m so sorry.” 

“Promise me you’ll get help.  Promise me.  If you won’t let me help you, please get help.” 

There’s only one thing I really need… 

“I promise.” 

    

\---    

    

“I don’t put blame on him.  It wasn’t his fault shit happened.  I mean, I went to a school so out of my league to be near him, and I went into debt and I joined the Army.  I did all of these things.  He…  He tried to stop me.  To help me.” 

Sam listens to his rambling silently but his gaze never falters.  He doesn’t even look bored.  He’s told this so many times it hurts his brain and his mouth. 

“I liked it in the Army.  I was good at it.  My arm…  thing…  It happened and I don’t blame anyone for it.  Bad timing.  I mean…  I don’t blame him for me joining the Army.” 

Bucky sips water.  He studies Sam for some kind of reaction.  For change.  Nothing. 

“What the fuck do you want me to say, man?  You’re like… Waiting for me to have some kind of big revelation or some epiphany about myself but it ain’t gonna happen.” 

“What’s stopping you from it?” 

Fucking psychotherapists… 

“Nothing!  There’s nothing!  I’m so over all the shit that happened.  I just want to move on!  I’m just here because…” 

“You promised Nat.”  Sam finishes for him, having heard it a thousand times before.  He pauses, garnering Bucky’s attention.  “Hey, man, seriously.  If you don’t want to be here, then you don’t have to be here.” 

“You don’t know Nat.” 

“I know her plenty.  You talk about her a lot.  But if you don’t want to be here, YOU in all caps, then you don’t have to.” 

Bucky looks down at his hand.  It still feels like he has both.  Like he can fiddle his fingers together or something.  He chews at his lip. 

“You’re the only other person in the world who listens to what I’m not saying though.” 

Sam’s eyebrows shoot up to his hairline. 

    

\---    

    

“I should see Steve, don’t I.” 

Nat doesn’t answer.  Clint opens his mouth but Nat slaps him on the boob. 

“I’ll call him tomorrow.  I should talk to him.” 

Nat continues to glare at him. 

“Nat, don’t ever call me over when you’re going to cook.  I already almost died twice.” 

Nat dumps the bowl of popcorn over his head.  She’s laughing though.  It’s alright after that. 

    

\---    

    

Three hours after he texted (Fuck you, Rogers) Steve finally answers him. 

<Anywhere you want.  I can make a reservation.> 

Bucky tries to not look like he’s waited in front of the phone for the past three hours.  He gives up after two short minutes. 

<Is that diner still around?  The joint with the thing?> 

<Yeah.  I can be there in… thirty minutes.> 

<K.  See ya there.> 

Bucky gets there in fifteen.  He chooses the booth in the farthest corner, sitting against the wall, eyeing all the exits.  He orders a hot coffee and waits.  The door opens twelve minutes later.  A tall handsome man enters, looking from one end to the waitress greeting him then finds him.  The three-piece suit and perfectly tailored Burberry is so out of place in this joint.  Bucky has torn jeans and standard Army undershirt and a pea coat on, chosen specifically because he’d not sewn or pinned up the sleeve.  He doesn’t know what Steve wants to talk about and he doesn’t want to freak him out.  He doesn’t want pity either.  It’ll look alright, if he doesn’t move too much. 

Steve approaches him slowly, like he would a scared dog.  Bucky straightens up and tries to smile. 

“Hey, Buck.” 

“Hi.” 

There’s no handshake or an attempt to hug him.  Steve slides into the seat across from him.  He asks for a glass of water. 

“Not hungry?”  Bucky asks him.  He wants to keep this easy.  Light.  Friendly. 

“I'm not really… Maybe in a few minutes.” 

“Okay.” 

Bucky strums his fingers over the tabletop.  He watches Steve open and close his mouth a few times.  He watches him loosen his tie and the top buttons of his shirt.  Bucky sips coffee to try to keep his nervous dry swallowing down to a minimum. 

“Thanks for seeing me,” Steve finally says. 

Bucky shrugs. 

In truth, his heart aches so much and his face hurts from trying not to let the tears out. 

Steve doesn’t continue.  He looks nervous and tired and miserable. 

Bucky will be nice and make it easier for Steve.  Steve, who he loves and hates at the same time.  Unforgettable Steve.  Unattainable Steve.  Unsanctionable Steve. 

“What did you want to talk about?”  Bucky asks.  He adds lightly, to help ease Steve, “Or did you miss me so much?” 

He can flirt.  He can be the old Bucky if Steve needs him to be.  He can pretend to be the carefree Bucky who never had his heart broken so many times, who danced wildly on the streets to Nat’s ballet music, who snuck into bars and did stupid shit, all because he was reckless and indestructible.  He can pretend not to be a crippled vet. 

Then Steve says too seriously, “I did miss you, Buck.” 

Bucky sniffs and looks away. 

“I missed you so much.  Bucky…  fuck, I fucking miss you.” 

He can’t do this. 

“You fucking miss me, babe?  You miss fucking into my tight ass, Steve?  Is that why you called?” 

“No!  No.  You.  I missed you!”  Steve’s face is flushed.  “You have…  No idea how much I missed you.” 

“I think I do, Steve.  I think I fucking do.” 

“Can we…  Please.  Just…  Have a conversation?” 

“I’m listening.” 

“You’re putting words in my mouth.” 

“Well, I’ll listen to what you have to say.  Go on.” 

Steve finishes his water.  He asks for another and a cup of coffee.  Bucky gets a refill. 

“You drink it black now?”  Steve asks as he pours in sugar into his cup. 

“Yeah.  Got used to not having the luxury of sugar and creamer overseas.” 

“And how was… that?” 

“I don’t want to talk about it.” 

“Okay.  I’m sorry.”  Steve fiddles around with the teaspoon.  “I’m… The divorce is finalized.” 

“That was fast.” 

“It was mutual.” 

“Sorry it didn’t work out.”  Bucky means it.  A large part of him had wanted the best thing for Steve and that part understood and wanted this to work out for him.  But the little part of him is cruel and jealous and it's saying fucking good.  He tells the little part to shut the hell up. 

“I’m sorry, too.  We weren’t happy from the first day.  It took both of us way too long to realize.  I, uh…  Are you keeping up with any of the stuff?  I mean, Rogers Industries stuff?” 

“Kind of.  Actually, not really.  Are you doing well?” 

“Yeah.  Yes.  I won’t bore you with it…”  Steve sounds disappointed that Bucky doesn’t know what he’s been doing at work. 

“You’re so all over the place with this conversation, Steve.  That’s sort of my thing?” 

“Yeah.  I just…  I’m trying to explain it.”  Steve looks up into Bucky’s face.  And there they are.  Those blues…  “I thought I needed to be something I’m not.  You were right.  I didn’t need to marry and meet people’s expectations in that way.  I thought that if I wasn’t perfect like that, then I would lose what was given to me.  Then…  Then I lost the one thing that meant…  Everything to me…  And I realized that I didn’t need to meet anyone’s ideals.  RI had a breakthrough.  We, uh, developed and patented a tech that uh…  FDA has approved it after so many testing and…  It’s not for everyone, I mean, most people can’t physically qualify but we’re building better… models…” 

Bucky loses Steve when he starts rambling towards the end.  What the fuck? 

“What the fuck are you talking about?” 

“Prosthesis, Bucky.  We developed new prosthesis models that work like… real…” 

Bucky bolts from the booth.  He doesn’t try to hide his arm.  As an afterthought, he slaps down a five-dollar bill on the table because like fucking hell, he’ll let Steve pay for his coffee. 

“Fuck you so very much, Steve.” 

He tells himself it’s not breaking his heart.  That Steve doesn’t come after him.  Or call him…  or text him… 

    

\---    

    

At the bodega, he picks up the Forbes magazine to read that article on Steve.  It’s actually about Rogers Industries, but Steve’s on the cover.  The issue is three magazines ago but Bucky had asked around.  The owner had it shoved in behind the register or something and gave it to him for free, so he purchases a bag of beef jerky, a pack of smokes and three other magazines about the thing that Steve tried to talk to him about. 

He finds a good place to read, even though it’s kind of windy and cold, alternating on chewing jerky and smoking while reading through the magazine articles.  The Forbes one is about how young Steve has rebuilt Rogers Industries with new technologies, useful stuff, too, that Bucky’s sort of missed over the past three years in the military plus two being a wreck.  The science magazine explains about the general idea behind the new robotic prosthesis and how it works and the kind of persons who could physically have them.  It doesn’t say in so many words but one of the requirements Bucky guesses is having a shit ton of money.  He doesn’t completely understand everything but what he does understand is that if he doesn’t understand the fancy words then it means it's very costly.  Vibranium; what the fuck is that?  That certainly was not on his gen-chem elements chart. 

He finishes half a pack and his throat feels like a desert.  Bucky walks around, magazines rolled and tucked between the half of his left arm and ribs.  The sleeve of his coat has been tucked into his pocket to make it look not so scary.  People stare too much and ask him questions he doesn’t want to answer.  It’s why he hates going outside, meeting people. 

Nat’s got dancing and Clint’s got a job to hold, people to arrest and keep peace and all that.  He needs more friends, Christ.  He still hasn’t gotten back to the bunch of Army pals who emailed him and messaged him on facebook.  He should do that.  The friends from high school, the ones still living in Brooklyn, who keep in regular touch with Nat and Clint, he should get back to.  When he gets home though, he’s so tired and thirsty.  He chugs beer while he searches the cabinets for something stronger. 

He checks his phone as he lies down on his bed.  Fuck taking off his boots.  It takes magic to tie his shoelaces (or clever fingers and corner of the bedside table, but whatever, it still takes way too fucking long). 

There’s a message from Nat and Nat’s mom.  He answers those back. 

Third message is from Steve. 

<Why can’t you see that I did all this for you?  That I still love you Bucky?> 

It was three hours ago.  It went to silent mode, the fucking phone. 

He slowly types out his answer after much deliberation. 

<I know you did and I know you do.  But that Bucky you love is dead.  I’m not that Bucky anymore.> 

<I don’t love you, Steve.  I don’t have it in me anymore.> 

<I’m sorry.  Please don’t contact me anymore.> 

Who woulda thought, James Buchanan Barnes...  that you could break your own heart and Steve's at the same time, and still remain alive, breathing, drinking shitty beer on a Thursday afternoon in your own bed...   

    

\---    

    

Because I can’t do another round of this. 

I’ll fall. 

I’ll die. 

I can’t get resurrected, it doesn’t work that way. 

It’s doomed to fail, you and I.  And I hate that I love you telling me you love me still.   

    

\---    

    

Steve had the smallest bouquet of flowers wrapped in newspaper.  Wild flowers not vendor flowers.  However he got them, Bucky will never know but he’d loved them.  Steve had said yes to their date and they’d scheduled a time to meet.  Bucky had on his Sunday button down shirt and a blazer over the jeans Steve had liked so much (because he was an evil, teasing asshole).  And Steve had the world’s smallest bouquet (okay, a tiny bundle) of flowers wrapped in newspaper for him and Bucky fell in love with him right there, at that moment, next to the subway stop he stepped out of to meet Steve. 

Steve took him to the art museum because it was a thing to do on a nice first date.  And he’d described how he felt about the painting.  Steve had chuckled at him, called him silly.  Bucky felt so embarrassed by the way he described the painting and Steve’s reaction to it. 

He’d barely tasted what the dinner was like because he was still upset about Steve’s reaction.  The restaurant had been way too fancy and there was no price listed next to the food.  Steve picked for him because he had no idea what any of the food was.  Some fancy French stuff.  Each dish looked pretty and tiny and definitely not enough to fill the stomachs of two teenage boys. 

“Bucky?  What’s wrong?  Is the food not good?” 

“No…  It’s fine.  It’s good, thanks.” 

“You’re not fine though.” 

Bucky sucked the iced tea through the straw. 

“Please tell me.” 

“You laughed at me.  About that painting.” 

Steve’s face flushed. 

“I wasn’t laughing at you.” 

“I heard a distinct you laughing at me.” 

“I wasn’t…  I was… laughing to myself…  about how precious you are.  About how much I love you…”  Steve’s voice got smaller. 

Bucky gasped.  He stopped breathing for a full minute.  Then he remembered how to inhale.  Bucky leaned forward, reaching out, to grasp Steve’s stupid fucking perfect tie to pull him closer and kissed him, deeply, adoringly.  If not for the people around them, Bucky would have climbed on his lap and fucked him right then and there.  He’d let go, after a few numbing seconds.  He straightened Steve’s tie for him before settling back down on his chair. 

“I love you, too, punk.” 

    

\---    

    

Nat can’t tell if it’s real or not but Bucky is doing better.  He’s only brushed it off when she asked him about the Steve thing. 

“It went fine.” 

Bucky had gotten a haircut, neat, keeping the top long enough to tuck behind his ears with sides undercut.  It’s nice with his stubbles shaved off.  They are shopping for Bucky’s work clothes.  It had taken one week of resume sending and applying for dozens of interviews to trickle in and Bucky just had to choose.  He’d ended up in the publishing house he’d always wanted to work for. 

“I don’t need to wear suits all day.  Khakis and iron-free shirts Nat.” 

“You?  Khakis?  And deprive the world of that ass and those legs?” 

“You’re right.  You think they’ll make an exception?” 

Bucky is picking through the racks for the perfect plaid, the fucking hipster.  The sales guy is seriously checking him out, and Nat has to point it out for him with a cough and a pointy elbow jab. 

“He’s cute.” 

“Not my type.” 

“What, ‘cause he’s not blonde, six-three, two-hundred-thirty pounds of pure muscles and way too handsome and in love with you?” 

“Drop it.” 

Bucky dismisses all the plaid.  They walk out of the store. 

“You should date though.  How about Sam?” 

“What about Sam?  My therapist Sam?  You think I should ask out my fucking therapist?” 

Nat contemplates on it.  “You’re right.  He doesn’t need to date a nutcase.  He’s hot though.” 

“And straight.  And in a serious relationship with an intimidating, beautiful lady.” 

“Darn.” 

“He is hot though,” Bucky smiles down at her.  And that makes her feel better.  She links her arm through the half empty sleeve tucked into his coat. 

“You think I’m ready to date?” 

Nat has been hoping for Bucky would ask that.  “I think you won’t know until you try, James.” 

“Okay.  Okay.  I’ll do it.  After I get some new clothes and after I start my new job.” 

“Deal.” 

"Can't deprive anyone of this ass, if you know what I mean."  Bucky wiggles his brows and Nat pokes his side until he wields. 

    

\---    

    

“Steve…  I wish you were here to see this.  The desert at night, it’s so quiet.  So dark and eerie.  You can’t see where the horizon is, it just melts into star filled sky and it frightens me.  Frightens me that there's such beautiful thing on this earth and we only get to see it like this, in a war.  There’s no light pollution here, like New York.  I miss New York like crazy but I like it here.  Rifle is fucking heavy and…  We get shot at.  I haven’t been shot yet, knock on wood, but it’s been close, a few times.  I wish you were here to see this view but I don’t wish you were here.  I’m glad you’re over there.  I'm glad that you're safe over there.  I miss you so much, and I love you so much. 

“I know you had to do what you had to do, and I know why you married her.  I know you were trying to protect me, keeping me safe, but babe, we're not kids anymore and I can handle the truth.  I’m sad that I said those things to you.  That I couldn’t make it easier for you.  I’m glad that you are… were my Stevie for a little while.  For me, my entire life, for as long as I live, I’m your Bucky.  I should have told you that before I left.  I’m writing this by a small penlight, and it's short, but I can't write much more without risking giving away our location.  There's so much I need to say, but it'll have to do for now.  I won’t send it anyway.  I can’t.  You know why I can’t. 

“I miss your touch.  I miss the shade of the blues in your eyes.  I miss you looking at me like I’m your entire world.  I miss your warmth.  It’s freezing here at night.  I'm keeping you safe and happy. 

“Your Bucky.” 

Bucky folds the letter back and stuffs it in his pocket.  Sam waits for him patiently. 

“Nat set me up on a date.” 

“That sounds nice.” 

“Yeah.  It does.  He’s Clint’s friend.” 

“He’s a cop?” 

“A detective.  I don’t know.  I don’t know if I’m ready.” 

“You won’t know until you try.” 

“That’s what Nat said.”  Bucky fidgets.  “I don’t know why I pay you so much when you just say the same things Nat’s already said.” 

Sam laughs at that. 

“Well, then, it’s time I get professional."  Sam twines his fingers together in an exaggerated stretch.  "You’ve been sad for a while, depressed even, and that’s okay.  We all go through that.  You have physical reminder of pain as well as the ones inside you.  You’re constantly wondering if others will judge you about your arm, but Bucky, I’m going to tell you that no, you’re not being judged.  You associate your internal pain with your physical pain, so you hide them, but they are two separate things.  I think you’re realizing this, at the back of your mind.  And you’re healing.  You’re okay, Bucky.  You’re going to be better.” 

“Thanks.”  Bucky wipes his face with the back of his hand then the ends of his sleeve. 

“You should go on that date.  It’ll be good for you.” 

“Time’s up.” 

“So it is.” 

Bucky gets up.  He pauses, putting his hand out.  Sam’s mouth drops open but he regains himself.  Sam shakes his hand. 

“Thanks.  Really.  And…  I know what I need to do.” 

    

\---   

    

Bucky sits on the stone steps in front of the museum, away from people, smoking his third cigarette.  The first day on the job has gone fairly well, better than he’d hoped.  There’s not too many typing he needs to do.  He can do most of the work by hand.  Mostly reading, so he loves the job already. 

The town car stops in his view and Steve gracefully steps out.  He says something to the driver who takes off when Steve shuts the door. 

“Hi,” Bucky says. 

“Hi, Buck.”  Steve’s got dark smudges under his eyes and he looks like he’s lost weight.  Bucky feels miserable.  Bucky invites Steve to sit next to him.  He hands him the cup of latte he’s been keeping for him. 

“It’s probably cold.” 

“That’s okay.”  Steve sips it.  Bucky goes on to talk about the new job, and Steve seems genuinely happy about it.  Bucky keeps his eyes forward.  He smokes another cigarette for courage. 

“I, uh…  Wanted to apologize about the things I said.  Before this and before… everything.” 

“You don’t have to do that, Buck.” 

“Please let me.” 

Steve remains quiet. 

“My arm…  It was an awful thing to happen but it happened.  You didn’t make it happen.  I didn’t either.  Us, breaking up, didn’t cause me to join the Army and make me lose my arm.  Do you see where I’m going with this?” 

Steve nods.  Cold wind slaps against them.  Bucky wants to curl in under Steve’s arm for warmth like he used to do. 

“I don’t want to be hurt again.  Arm.  Heart.  I don’t want to get hurt by someone I love, Steve.” 

Steve remains silent. 

“I got my stomach pumped…  Did Nat tell you that, too?” 

“Yes.  She called me.  I wanted to be there but...”  Bucky stops him, putting his hand over Steve's.  It's so warm.  So inviting. 

“That wasn’t your fault either.  I wasn’t trying to…  I was just…  The thought that it would go bad mixing the two in that vast amount didn’t occur to me until I was calling Nat.” 

Bucky pulls out another cigarette but doesn’t light it.  Something to play with. 

“We messed up bad, sweetheart, and we’re still so in love.  How did we mess up so bad?  ‘Cause we love each other too much?  We’re no good together, Steve…  We’re no good when we’re together, and we’re worse when we’re apart.  So what the fuck are we supposed to do?” 

“I don’t know, Buck.  I don’t know anything.” 

Bucky clears his throat and lights the cigarette.  Light gray smoke vanishes in swirls into the cold air. 

“I, uh, wrote to you once.  When I was over.  I never sent it.  But… I thought you should have it since it’s for you.” 

Bucky hands him the wrinkled folded letter from his pocket.  It’s got some spots of blood but hadn’t made it illegible.  Steve stares down at it without saying anything for a while, opens and reads it.  Steve reads it over and over again without saying a thing. 

“I got a date… in like thirty minutes.  So I gotta go.” 

“You have a date?” 

“Nat and Sam thought it was a good idea for me to… I don’t know.  Meet new people?  Date?” 

“Oh.” 

“Yeah.  He’s a detective or something at Clint’s precinct.  So… I should go.” 

Bucky gets up.  Steve doesn’t move.  Bucky says his good-bye and walks away.  Except that he can’t.  Steve grabs his hand tight from where he’s sitting. 

“Don’t.” 

“Steve…” 

“You’re my…  You’re my Bucky.  You said it.  You’re mine.  I can’t…  I can’t let you go again.  I want to make you happy.  Whatever I have to do, I want to be the one to love you.  No one else.  Whatever it takes.” 

“Steve…” 

“Because you’re wrong.  Because I can’t love you too much, there’s no such thing.  I just love you.  I can’t live without you.  Please, Bucky.  Stop pushing me away.  Because I’m still right behind you, chasing after you.” 

“Fuck, fuck you, Steve.  Fuck you…” 

“I've never stopped being your Stevie...” 

“Fuckin' punk...  I love you, so fucking much.” 

Bucky sinks back down on his knees, grabs Steve’s face to kiss him. 

The city lights don't fade.  It glows brighter as the sky gets darker and so clear.  Beautiful and clear and all the moments finally synchronized in perfect harmony and rhythm.  And the scents of apricots in the field from so far away, swirling around them, like vanishing smoke...   

    

    

    

.end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [helllpp i've fallen into stucky and i can't get out!!]  
> Inspiration fairy hit me and i wrote this in one sitting. Eeep. Edited twice so any remaining mistakes are all on me.  
> please feel free to leave helpful comments and crits. those help.  
> if you think i need additional tags, i'll be happy to add them.  
> if you got down this far, thanks! for reading and all.
> 
> The painting referred to in this fic is "Scent of Apricots on the Field (1944)" by Arshile Gorky. It's from my own experience of seeing this painting in real for the first time. See it in real life, if you can (google images won't do it any justice). It'll fill you with pleasure beyond all senses.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve's POV.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is as good as it's going to get I guess, the writing and editing part, I mean. It was pretty difficult to write.  
> Trigger Warnings:  
> Alcoholism (how it affects people around alcoholics)  
> Self-harm (bones broken and blood described)  
> Suicidal Thoughts  
> Death of Parents (not descriptive)  
> Tony snark  
> Steve marries a woman for business purposes (please forgive)  
> Angst (sad, angry, sad sad steve)

 

 

Bucky is the second most self-destructive person in Steve’s life.

Steve still loves him.  He takes away the half-burnt cigarette from between Bucky’s fingers to stub it out in the ashtray.  Steve starts at cleaning the empty bottles but stops when Bucky stirs under the sheets.  All Steve can do is brush back the strands of hair away from his face.

  

Steve is quite self-aware.  Steve is the most self-destructive person in Steve’s life and he is well aware of it.

  

Steve reads through Bucky’s notebooks, paper ripped out and torn and thrown all over the room.  Steve picks them up because it’s a fire hazard, all these papers everywhere and Bucky’s habit of chain smoking when he works.  Steve reads to put together the torn paper.  Bucky tears them in halves, down the middle, so they are not hard to match up, tape back together, put away just in case Bucky wants them again.  Bucky writes beautiful poetry, even if Steve won’t know the scholarly aspects of them.  They are honest and haunting and full of visuals.  Steve tapes up the torn pages and fits them into one of the folders in his backpack.

Bucky doesn’t know that Steve keeps them.

Bucky probably doesn’t care.

  

Bucky is smoking, sitting on the floor against the balcony door, staring at something floating outside but with that blank look on his face.

 

Steve shakes the water from his hair as he enters the apartment, smiling at Bucky.  It takes Bucky ten more seconds to turn to look at him.

“Why are you wet, Steve?”

“It’s raining, Buck.”

Bucky looks out the balcony door.  “Oh, shit.  Do you need a towel?”

“No.  I’m going to shower.  Mind if I borrow some of your clothes?”

“Go ahead.”

When Steve comes back out of the bathroom, Bucky is standing, leaning against the cold glass door, staring out at nothing again.  He shakes his head, finding Steve, flushed and moist from his shower.  Bucky crosses the small expanse of his studio apartment, wraps his arms around Steve’s neck.

“Need you to fuck me,” Bucky whimpers.  “Need it, Stevie.”

Steve dies a little inside each time.  There’s nothing he won’t give to Bucky, nothing he won’t do for him, withhold nothing.

Steve kisses Bucky’s temple, wrapping an arm around Bucky’s waist.

Bucky pulls Steve’s face closer, smashing his mouth against him, kissing him indecently.

Steve walks them towards the bed.  Bucky lands on the mattress first.  He does this thing, bites down on his lip with wide wet eyes, and watches Steve for five seconds, waiting.  Steve doesn’t know what Bucky is waiting for, not exactly.  When he does ask, Bucky answers with, “I want you to fuck me, Stevie,” and so Steve would oblige.

But today it is, “Do you…  Ever say, no?”

Steve is caught where he stands, one hand gripping the towel hanging precariously off his hips, and the other on Bucky’s bent knee.

“I don’t have to…”

“No.  Not…  Not this.  What if…  What if I say, Steve, let’s run away.  Let’s run away to somewhere no one knows us, start over?  I can write and you can draw, and we can have quirky part time jobs and live in a little house and… get a dog?  How about that, Stevie?”

His heart drums inside his ribcage, eyes stinging.  Bucky pretends like he doesn’t know or care about what Steve does but at times like this, Steve wishes that he…  He wants what Bucky wants.

“Abraham will retire as soon as I graduate from college and I’ll take over.”

“We can take a bus or the train.  We should go somewhere Midwest.  Yeah…  C’mon Stevie.  We can leave…”

“You know I can’t.”

Bucky flings an arm over his eyes.

“Yeah, no shit.”

His other arm flails around for his pack of cigarettes.  Steve grabs them for him before searching for some clothes that will fit him.  He finds his tee-shirt he’s probably left here once and sweatpants with Bucky’s school logo on them, too loose for Bucky’s thinner frame.

“You want to order some Thai?  We can watch a movie.”

Bucky nods, knuckles rubbing at his corners of his eyes.  Steve turns away.  Yes, this is cowardice, but he needs…

“I love you, Steve.  I love you.”

Bucky throws his arms around his shoulders, forehead against his back, and tears form in Steve’s eyes.  His eyes are squeezed shut.  Yes, if Bucky asks him at this moment, he’ll say yes, stuff them into a car and drive them somewhere where no one will find them.  They can live in the middle of the woods or in a small town in one of those states near the desert or the mountains.  If he asks now, Steve will say yes because his cowardice is not in the form of doing this with Bucky.  His cowardice is the fear of becoming a disappointment to Abraham, to the other people who care about him and need him, and to the people who detest him, pointing fingers and saying, I told you so. 

“I understand, Stevie.  I was just…  I was just being needy.  You shouldn’t listen to me.”

Steve’s breathing gets faster.  Bucky’s arms tighten.

“I’m hungry, Steve.  Order us food?”

Steve tries to get his heaving lungs under control.

“I love you, Steve, I didn’t really mean it.  I was just… saying.  You know, just… Entertaining romantic ideas.”

“I would, Bucky.  If that’s what you really want, we can go.  Right now.”

“No!  No…  I’m sorry.  I just…  I’m hungry, Stevie.”

Then the conversation stops.  Bucky changes the subject completely and won’t let Steve continue.  Bucky can change Steve’s world with just a few words.  That’s what I really want, Steve.  Bucky has that over Steve, but Bucky stops.  Turns and walks.

Why can’t we walk on the same path, hold hands, side by side?  Why do we love one another so much, so out of rhythm, out of sync, and keep sacrificing what we want when they end up being the same thing? 

Steve doesn’t know what he would do if he didn’t have Bucky in his life.

 

\--- 

 

A call that turns Steve’s life upside down comes when he’s sitting in his office with Nick Fury, looking at the figures on his tablet.  Maria Hill knocks just once and opens the door.

“Steve, I think you should take this phone call.”

“We’re in the middle of something,” Steve tries as calmly as he can.  Nick is looking at his face with his one good eye.  The figures don’t look good and if Nick doesn’t have answers or more advices, it looks like RI will have to… what, downsize?  Shut down?

“There’s a woman on the phone…  Natasha Romanoff?  She’s pretty insistent.  Sounds urgent.”  Maria explains.

Natasha?  Steve’s mouth falls open.  There’s only one reason she would be calling him at his office.

“I’ll take it.”

Nick sends a questioning expression his way but nods and walks out the office.  “I’ll be back in ten.”

Steve has to breathe deep five times before picking up the receiver and pressing the blinking button to connect the call.

“Steve Rogers.”

“Steve, hi, it’s Nat.”

“What’s going on?”

“It’s…  It’s James.”

He isn’t getting enough air.  Oh god…  Bucky…

“Steve, hey, you need to breathe.  Please…  Steve.”

“What is it.  What…”  My Bucky…  “Nat?”

“There was… an accident a few months ago.  He’s been back for a few weeks.  He’s in a military hospital.”

“He’s alive?”

“Yes.”

Steve covers his face with his hand.  No matter; he tries to stifle a sob but it sounds loud against the palm of his hand.  The wedding ring on his finger is cool over his cheek. 

“Steve?”

“I need to…”

“I’m on my way there.  I’m at the airport now.  He…  Oh, god, how do I say this…”

“Just tell me.  Please…”

“There was an explosion or a bomb or something.  He…  James…”

Steve hears the tears in Nat’s voice, stuck in her throat.  He waits on her, so afraid of what she’ll say.

“James…  Lost his arm.”

Oh, god…  Oh, no… god…  Bucky…

“It’s…  He is…  It’s…”  It’s all my fault.

“Steve, I have to go.  I’ll call you back later.”

Bucky…

“I’ll call back later, ‘kay?  I thought that you should know.  I’ve got to go.  Bye, Steve.”

Steve sits with the receiver clutched in his fist until the sun sets.  Neither Nick or Maria can get him to move.  Abraham calls him on his cellphone, so does Hope, but he doesn’t budge.  It’s nearly two in the morning when an out of state number rings up his phone he scrambles to answer.

“Nat?”

“Yeah.  It’s me.”

Natasha sounds tired and she sniffles.

“I need to see him.  I need…  He needs me…”

“James is on a lot of painkillers but he’s lucid.  It’s his left arm, up to about four inches above the elbow.  He’s doing okay so far.  The doctors tell me there’s nothing more they can do for him at the hospital so he’ll be released once the Army decides he can go.”

“Was it just… his arm or…”

“There are some deep cuts and they had to remove shrapnel from the shoulder, back and side.  Some fractured ribs, some scarring, but he’s almost all healed.  The docs…  They sounded pretty optimistic…”

“Except his fucking arm?”

“It was an accident, Steve.”

“Does he…  Will he need…”  Steve takes a deep breath.  “If he needs anything, and if I can be any help at all…”

“I didn’t tell him I called you.”

A tear trickles out and over his cheek, creating a round wet spot over the fabric of his pants.  Steve tries to blot it out with his thumb.  Another hit over his knuckles.

“I didn’t expect you to.”

“He’ll move in with me and Clint.”

“That would be great, Nat.”

“An extra bedroom would be nice.”

“I can help you look for one.  Whatever you guys will need.  I, uh, can help you find a good hospital.  He’ll need physiotherapy.  I can find the best doctors for him…  Whatever you need.”

“I’ll call you when I get back to New York.”

“Take care of Bucky?”

He hears Natasha scoff, unable to hold back.

“That was supposed to be your job.”

Steve bites down on his lip.

“I’m sorry.  That was rude.  I’m…  Steve, I didn’t mean to say it like that.”

“It’s true though.  I still…”  He can’t finish.

The world is meaningless without Bucky in it.  He can’t say that.

“Call me when you’re back in New York.  I’ll have a realtor find you some listings.”

“Bye, Steve.”

  

\---

  

world freezes around me  
and i reach up above my head  
to reach for the one meaningful thing in my life  
and i wait, and wait, and wait  
for the ice to cinch my bones and nerves  
and each particle inside this body  
that craves for you to  
reach back down and finally touch  
me

  

\--- 

  

The thing about Hope.

 

Hope is a beautiful, strong, independent woman and Steve feels small when he finally looks up from his plate.  His uncle Abraham and Hope’s father, Dr. Hank Pym, are deep in conversation about particle research.  Steve’s fingers tremble as he reaches for his wine glass.

The thing about Hope is that she isn’t interested in Steve at all.  She tells him so on their second ‘date’ which involves a lot of photo taking and hand waving and smiling until his face feels numb and tiny foods on trays that no one eats.

“There’s this guy, Scott, an engineer.  He works at PYM but he’s got… a troubled past.  Dad thinks this is a better idea.”

“But what do you think?”

Hope’s fingers are curled over his arm.  Her dress is a golden yellow with black accents that’s elegant and sexy.  Her smile is natural and beautiful and Steve finds her nice to look at.  Except he can’t concentrate because he’d left the apartment in the middle of another shouting match with Bucky.

“It’s complicated.”

“Yeah, I get that.”

Hope switches her empty glass with a full one.

“What’s her name?”

“What will you get out of this marriage?”

Hope sips at the champagne in her glass.

“I’m hungry.  Do you want to get out of here, get a slice of pizza or something?”

Steve agrees, following Hope outside.  They walk down the street, slipping into a dimly lit pizza store and orders a plain pie.  They eat without much talking.  Hope finishes two slices quickly and reaches for a third.  Plays with a piece of crust that breaks between her fingers.

“If I don’t do this, if I don’t ally myself with…  Someone who has a bigger name than Pym, I’ll lose the company.  I have to try something.  My dad doesn’t think I can do it, run PYM, the way he has…  The way he _had_.  It’s something I need to do.”

Steve swirls the straw around in the soda, ice melting, watery.

“James.”

Hope asks, confused, “James?”

“His name is James.  James Barnes.  He’s been my best friend since…  kindergarten?  He’s been my lover for ten years.”

Hope’s eyes are a bit larger.

“Does your uncle know?”

“Yeah.  Yes.”

“Then…  What will _you_ get out of this marriage?”

“RI won’t get swallowed up by Stark.  RI and PYM will become sister companies, share research and data, since both specialize in different aspects of engineering.  PYM and Stark have always had oppositions, because of weapons tech research and development, and the military contract and your father has been against Howard Stark for…  As long as I can remember.  RI industrial tech combined with PYM can probably do great things.”

Hope takes a bite out of her slice. 

“You know, I love DC, lived there my entire life.  I love everything about it, but I have to say, I love New York style pizza.”

Steve smiles a little at that.

“If we take down Stark, we can get a divorce.”

“Hah!”  Steve laughs.

“It’ll take a really good, long explanation to convince Scott but I think it’ll be worth it.”

“I don’t know if Bucky will understand.  He won’t.”

Hope’s eyes glow, mouth working hard not to smile at Steve’s fond use of ‘Bucky’.

“He will.”

Hope reaches forward and lays her hand over Steve’s.

“I think…  Steve, I think this will be the beginning of a beautiful friendship.”

Hope quotes, managing to get Steve to smile again.

“I’ll try to not make this marriage last.”

“I can only hope.”

She winks at him.  Her hand is warm.

  

\---  

  

Steve has barely slept over the past month.  He feels gaunt and dry.  Maria brings him power lunches and glares at him until he finishes and pulls him into the gym.

“Your suits won’t fit anymore if you keep losing weight.  It’s not a good look on you: Misery.”

Steve half-heartedly finishes the training routine.  He doesn’t feel tired.  He feels empty.

“Really, Steve, you need to stay strong.  Stay strong for Bucky.”

Hope says to him over dinner.  It breaks his heart.  Yes.  For Bucky.  I would do anything for Bucky.

 

“Steve, your three o’clock is here.”  Maria announces.  “Conference room.  Let’s go.”

Steve is surprised because he hasn’t been paying attention to the calendars.  He’s been waiting for Nat’s update on Bucky.

“Dr. Bruce Banner and Tony Stark.”  Maria introduces them when the conference doors close behind him.

Steve already knows the two scientists and shakes their hands.  He’s a bit embarrassed at his current state of dishevelment.

“Technically I, too, am a holder of several Ph.D.’s but no one introduces me as Dr. Tony Stark.  Ew.  Nope.  Steven.  You’re taller than the last time we saw each other.”

Bruce Banner shakes his head a bit, mouthing a ‘no’ at Tony Stark.  Steve fidgets a little, playing with a pen lying next to a closed leather folder.  Maria sits beside him, ready to jump in if Steve can’t handle this.

“We’re here to make a proposition.”

“We’ve had many propositions from Stark Industries and our answer is going to be ‘No’.  Always.”

“Hear me out, Steve.”  Tony Stark smirks.

Steve is trembling with nervous energy and anger.  How dare they…

“We’re here to ask for jobs.  We have resumes if you need them, complete with references, and uh, Pepper.”

“Jobs?”

“Yes.  You hire me and Brucey and you’ll also get Pepp.”

“What does that mean?  What would you do here?  Why?”

Steve doesn’t understand the sudden proposal.  Bruce Banner pats Tony Stark’s shoulder to try to calm him down.

“Tony’s skipped over a few details.”  Bruce plays with the wire framed glasses he’s taken off.  “Tony and Pepper found out some shady deals that Stark Industries has been engaging in for…”

“God knows how long.”

“A long time.  Probably since Tony’s new smart weapons line started.”

“So, we shut down the weapons manufacturing department.”

“You what?”

Maria subtly kicks Steve’s ankle at his sudden outburst.

“We tried to.  If Stark shuts down the weapons department, it will be considered a breach in contract with the United States Military.  Stark may have to pay back the hundreds of millions.  So, they locked _him_ out.”  Bruce Banner explains, thumb pointing at Tony Stark.

“Out of my own company.”

“Why wasn’t this in the news?”

“This happened an hour ago.  So… are we hired?”

Maria rescues Steve’s loss for words.

“Does this mean you want to make weapons for Rogers Industries?”

“No, of course not.  I,” Tony Stark pauses.  Tony Stark never pauses.  “I only designed weapons to…  So that my dad’s legacy lives on.  But if my dad’s legacy has me falling into the same evil depths as extremists and terrorists, I don’t want to be part of it.”

“Do you know who’s behind it all?”

“Pretty good idea but no proof.”

Steve rubs his temples with his fingertips.  Bruce Banner looks at him with sympathy.  Steve’s phone dings a new email, which he opens just to have a moment to breathe from this.  It’s Nat.  She has written a short message about being settled in the new apartment and when Bucky is coming home.  A short line at the end thanking him for the listing.  The headache worsens with the thoughts of Bucky.

“What would you do here?”

“There’s a project.  Started in the seventies.  My dad started it, but never finished.  It’s got potential.  Bruce agrees with me.”

“There is a first time for everything.” 

Steve’s eyes shift over to Dr. Banner with interest.

“What’s the project?”

“It’s called an Arc Reactor.  It involves…”

Bruce Banner cuts off Tony Stark to explain in easier terms.  “Clean energy.  If it works…  It should be a viable safe, clean energy source, and wouldn’t cost more than a year’s worth of electricity bills.”

“ _If_ it works?”

“Everyone at Stark brushed it off as being a kind of ideal thing my dad came up during a time when people protested nuclear energy and all that.  But it will work.”

“Will it?”

“You’ve got two of the smartest minds on this side of the planet sitting in your office, telling you it’ll work, Rogers.”

Bruce Banner raises an eyebrow at Tony Stark.  He makes a small shake of his head.

“Why… me?  Why Rogers?  PYM’s got better equipment than Rogers.  Hell, they’ve got more money to fund your project as well.  Or you could change Stark.”

“Because even after all these years, people trust Rogers a whole lot more than Stark or PYM.”

Steve scoffs.

“So, you want the Rogers name behind your…  Arc Reactor, is that it?”

“Pretty much.  When it works, Steve, it’ll be _the_ game changer.”

“For whom?”

“For mankind.”

Steve shakes his head.  Maria sends him warning glares.

“If I do this…  There’s a project I want to start.  You… would be a big help.”

“Name it.”

Steve clears his throat.  Bruce Banner has kept his gentle eyes on him through the whole meeting.  Tony Stark is still Tony Stark.  And Tony Stark with Bruce Banner is… unstoppable.

“I need an arm.  A working prosthetic arm.”

“You want to… enter the prosthesis market?”  Bruce Banner glances over to Maria as well.

“No.  Yes.  I don’t…  I just…  I need one.”

“You got it.”  Tony Stark answers confidently.

“We will work something out,” Dr. Banner says.

Tony Stark gets up, ending the meeting.  “Pepper will be in touch.”

Steve palms Tony Stark’s offered hand, matching his firm grip.  He shakes Banner’s hand next.  Maria tells them that she’ll have all the details laid out for them as she walks them out of the room.  She’s fuming when she comes back.

“Steve, we can’t afford this.”

“I can put my own money in.”

“That is…  such a terrible idea.  What is wrong with you?”

“There’s nothing wrong.”

“And the prosthesis market?  Why all of a sudden?”

“I just…  had an idea, that’s all.”

“I have to report to Nick.  I’ll see you later.”

Maria sighs heavily, storming out of the room.

 

\---

 

It’s one of those days where Bucky is completely coherent.  He’s cleaned up the apartment and all his school things are in a neat pile on the coffee table.  His laptop is open.  There’s music playing from it, a playlist consisting of music Steve doesn’t recognize, on low, he can barely hear the bass.  The windows are open, the balcony doors, cool autumn wind blasting in and clearing out the stuffy air.  Steve tidies up the kitchen, making a pot of coffee.  Bucky calls out his name from the shower, so he looks in to the steamy bathroom.  Bucky pokes his head out from behind the shower curtains.

“I need clean towels.”

The length of the soft brown locks doesn’t frame his face.

“You cut your hair.”

“I did.”  Bucky smiles at him.  “Towels, Stevie.”

Steve goes to the hall closet to retrieve towels for Bucky.

“Do you want me to shut the windows?  It is kind of chilly.”

“Yeah.  Sure,” Bucky answers him from under the spray of water.

Steve is wrestling with the window in Bucky’s room that gets stuck about a third way down when Bucky enters the room, wrapped in a towel.

“Baby, we should go out.  Get something to eat.”

Bucky lets the towel fall.  The sight always makes Steve’s mouth dry.  There are more inks on his skin now, some random designs and words than the time Bucky showed Steve in a café, meeting up for the first time after years of being separated.  He’s grown taller since then, filled in a little more, but still on the thin side.  Bucky rubs the towel over his wet hair violently.

“Sure, where do you want to go?”

“Anywhere.  Ooh, that burger joint where we went to when Nat and Clint came to visit?  Or the bar across the street from there.  Either one.”

Bucky’s dimpled smile makes Steve’s heart drop, each and every time.

“We can do both.  Burgers first.  We have to fatten you up.”

Bucky pouts and grabs his middle.

“You’ll hate me when I’m older and fatter.  I’ll blame it on you.”

“I’ll never hate you.”

“Yeah, you say that now.  Let’s see in ten years.”

“I’ll always love you, Bucky.”

Bucky’s face turns a few shades redder.  He looks for clean clothes to wear.  He mumbles about the need to do laundry.

“I made some coffee.  I could use a cup before we go out,” Steve suggests.

“Yeah, sure.  Pour me some, babe.”  Bucky grabs a sweater that Steve suspects is his, and follows Steve to the kitchen.  Steve pours two mugs and adds the exact amount of sugar and cream Bucky likes into one mug.  When he turns to hand it to him, Bucky is fidgeting, twisting a piece of paper between his hands.

“Buck?”

“I got a letter from Berkeley.”

Steve’s eyes widen.

“I didn’t open it yet.  I was waiting for you.”

“Open it.”

Bucky turns the letter, crumpled at the corners and down the center.

“What if I got in?”

“Then you go to Grad school.”

“If I don’t?”

“You can apply to another school or you can write, submit your stuff to some publishers.”

“What will you do?”

“I’ll give you a kiss either way.  And be proud of you no matter what.”

Bucky’s mouth turns down at that for some reason Steve can’t understand.  He wrings the letter in his hands for a few more seconds and finally rips it open.  His eyes scan the page, making Steve wait anxiously.  After a while, enough for the coffee to cool down, Bucky crumples up the letter and tosses it towards the direction of the trash bin.  It hits the edge and bounces out onto the kitchen floor.  Bucky doesn’t even look at it as he downs the coffee in his mug.  Steve rinses the mugs in the sink as Bucky says something about grabbing his keys and goes into his room.  Steve eyes the ball of paper sitting on the kitchen floor, rolled into the corner.

“I’m hungry.  Let’s go.”

Bucky has the too-big sweater on, sitting skewed over his shoulder, holding his leather jacket in his hand.  He is smiling but Steve knows which smile of Bucky’s is genuine and when it’s not.  Bucky is shaking out a cigarette and patting around for a lighter.  Steve quickly goes over, grabbing his face and kisses him.  Bucky reciprocates the kiss, fingers resting over his arms.

“I love you, Buck.”

“I didn’t get in.”

“I love you.”

“I’m not good enough…”

“I love you.”

Steve doesn’t know how much he needs to emphasize for Bucky to believe him completely.  How many times he needs to say it.  How much he needs to mean it. 

“I love you, Bucky.  I always will.”

He’ll say it forever if it will make Bucky believe in those words completely.

“But you’ll leave me one day.  We’re…  not meant to be happy, I think.”

“Can we try to be happy today though?”

Bucky’s light blue eyes look up into his, startled by Steve’s words, moisture gathering in the corners.  He nods, kissing him once more.

“I’m sorry, Stevie.”

“Let’s go eat and let’s get drunk.”

“Okay.”

“I’ll carry you if you’re too drunk to walk home.”

“Okay.”

“I’ll love you even if we’re not happy.  Just the same.  Every day.”

“Okay, Stevie.”

“Every single fucking day…  For the rest of my life.”

  

Later, after Steve has deposited drunk Bucky into his bed, he goes into the kitchen to find water and aspirin.  He picks up the crumpled letter, holds it in his fist for a very long time.  He knows he shouldn’t but he wants to read the letter for himself.  In the end, he deposits the ball of paper into the trash, but he knows that Bucky has gotten into Berkeley’s graduate program, and can’t figure out why he’s chosen to lie to Steve about it.  Why he’s chosen to throw away the thing he’s worked so hard for.

 

Later, Steve would mention that.  Bucky would scream about how he did it for Steve.  And Bucky would accuse him of not being able to do the same for him.

 

Much later, Steve would realize what Bucky had really meant. 

 

That night though, he closes the trash bin lid over the crumpled letter and retrieves water and aspirin for Bucky, climbing into the bed and wrapping his arms around Bucky. 

  

\--- 

  

The Arc Reactor project proposal is the thing that splits Rogers Industries in half. 

Half of the Board wants nothing to do with Tony Stark, Bruce Banner or Pepper Potts. 

The other half is enthusiastic and amused.  Steve suspects that because if it fails, they can lock Steve out, effectively cut ties with Steve and PYM, and merge with Stark Industries, without Tony Stark and Steve Rogers.  It’s Nick Fury who calms everyone down and stands firm behind Steve and the Arc Reactor project, which Steve is grateful for.  Steve puts in almost all his money into the project.  Tony Stark buys out a few of the Board members’ shares who decide to retire or leave, and adds some of his funds into the project.  Nick is amused and welcomes Tony Stark into the Board.  Hope suggests PYM facilities in DC for some parts of the project.  Steve meets Scott Lang, a brilliant engineer, for maybe the second time since marrying Hope, who has helpful suggestions for the project and is happy to work with the RI engineers in DC.

Nat and Clint send him updates on how Bucky is doing.  Bucky has stopped going to the physiotherapist he’s found for him, opting for a VA clinic instead.  It makes his head and heart ache but he can’t control what or how Bucky chooses to get better.

Pepper Potts steps in as the Chief Operations Officer and reestablishes the parts of the company that hasn’t been working to full potential for the past decade.  Steve decides there’s so much to learn from her, and works together earnestly.  Stark joins their meetings sometimes for no particular reason, but doesn’t interrupt their actual work, just cuddles and pokes at Pepper, going through his work on his laptop and tablet, talking to the advanced AI, JARVIS, he’s programmed.  Pepper explains to Steve that it’s just how Tony functions.  Some days he’ll be in his lab, working non-stop for hours on end, and sometimes he needs to be clingy, to feel human interaction.  Steve smiles at Pepper and assures her that he understands.  He spins the ring around his finger as he listens to Stark update them on the Arc Reactor project.

Bruce joins their meeting over video call since he’s been in DC at PYM for the past few weeks.  Steve doesn’t pay much attention to the things he can’t understand.  He just appreciates that it’s going well.  PYM has the equipment RI is lacking while Bruce works hard on developing a new element.  Hope has been in DC for a few months as well.

“We’re just waiting for a few parts to arrive.  I think by next week, we’ll be ready with a prototype.”  Bruce finishes.

“Sounds great, Bruce.”  Pepper smiles beautifully towards the screen.

“If I were there, I would have built those parts myself, you know.  Maybe I should go down to DC.”  Stark twirls his hands into the air.

“You can come poke around all you want next week.  I’ve got to get going but, Steve, Pepper, you’ll be down in DC next week, right?”

Steve looks at Pepper, unable to recall his schedule.  Maria is in a meeting with Nick and a few of the Board members so she can’t scold him about not remembering.  Pepper answers for him.

“Of course.  We wouldn’t miss the annual PYM Gala.”

Bruce signs off.  Stark has an idea suddenly and runs off to his lab, talking to JARVIS frantically.

“I have the perfect dress for the Gala.  I wonder what Hope will be wearing.  She always has something impeccable.  I should call her about that.  Maybe you and Maria can join me for a little last minute shopping?  We can fit you into a better tux and I could always use a second opinion…  Steve?”

“Oh?  Yeah…  Sure.  I’ll see if Maria’s finished with Nick.”

Steve fishes out his phone.  There’s a text message from Clint. 

<Bucky wants to move out, man.>

Steve bites back a cuss.

“So, uh, how is Hope?”  Pepper asks.

“She’s doing fine.  She prefers DC.”

Pepper smiles warmly at him.

Another message comes in. 

<He’s already found a place.  He’s packing.  Nat won’t even talk to him.>

Pepper gathers his arm in hers and lead them out of the office.  Steve can barely think.  They end up at a quiet restaurant not too far from the RI building, Pepper ordering lunch for them.  Maria joins them ten minutes later, huffing out her frustration about a disagreement with the financial department, ordering a glass of chilled white wine for herself.  Pepper sends lunch to Tony via her bodyguard and driver, Happy.  The women discuss the financial situation that Steve tries to pay attention to and give his honest opinions and suggestions.  The conversation tapers off to the lighter topic of the PYM Gala as they finish their food.

Steve pays for lunch and follows Pepper and Maria to the tuxedo shop where he must be fitted at, apparently, with an appointment having been booked by Maria months ago.  He smiles pleasantly at their ruse and obligingly tries on the different colored tuxes that have been picked out for him.  He doesn’t mind the shrewdness of the women in his life who take care of him so.  Or maybe, he thinks, he should really pay more attention.

As he is being measured in the blue suit that Pepper and Maria swear he’ll look great in, his phone pings a few times.  He waits patiently as shirts and ties are pressed over his torso, shoes and cuffs presented.  He picks out the ones he likes and laughs along when the women shake their heads at his choices.  Overall, he has a good time as he carefully changes out of the new tux into his everyday suit again.  He doesn’t bother with the tie as he doesn’t plan on going back into the office today.

He enjoys time with Pepper and Maria for the rest of the afternoon, escorting them through their shopping spree.  He has time to sit and breathe when they stop in a café to rest their feet.  There are a few emails that needs answering, which he files away for later.  He opens the messages he’s missed.

Hope tells him the tuxedo looks good.  She tells him a few things about the Gala which he relays to the women, who are sipping on lattes and discussing work, again.

Clint says, <Bucky’s taken a cab with a duffle.  Didn’t tell me the new address.>

Steve types back, <Did he find out about me helping you guys?>

Clint answers almost immediately, <No.  He just fought with Nat about rent and stuff.>

<Let me know if you find out where he is?>

<Of course, man.  I’ve gotta go to work now.>

  

\--- 

  

Even as Steve explains how it isn’t about love or about not wanting him, Bucky doesn’t listen.  There is yelling.  Bucky is an emotional wreck.  He’s thrown all his books, torn and shredded in his hands, all over the apartment.  Steve tries to calm him down but Bucky wails and screams and won’t listen.

Steve tries again.  And again.

 

Bucky drinks heavily.  Bucky spends most of his time drinking or sleeping off alcohol.

Steve wonders again if marrying Hope is the best thing for RI.  It is a popular topic on the news.  It’s a marriage between two young entrepreneurs, with speculations on their relationship, positive and negative.  There’s news about a possible merger for RI and PYM although the business journalists are still leaning towards Stark buying out RI and all their patents that would be most helpful to the Stark weapons development.

Steve wraps his body around Bucky each night, reassuring him that he loves him, that all of this is not because he doesn’t love him.  Bucky soaks his shirt with tears.

 

Abraham retires and everything is finalized and Steve steps into Rogers Industries lobby as the CEO for the first time.  It doesn’t feel like anything’s changed, the lobby is the same, the staff, the elevator, even his office.  Maria Hill is still intimidating as ever, who hands him a stack of folders for review.

He doesn’t know how to get Bucky to listen.

Steve signs off on the things stacked on his desk, not quite sure what he’s signing, but trusting that Maria has everything covered.

 

It’s a few months before the wedding when Director Nick Fury knocks on his office door.  Steve looks up from his reading material.

“We intercepted this from getting to the press.”  Nick says without so much as a hello.

Steve opens the black folder.  It’s a grainy photo of him and Bucky.  His arm is around Bucky’s shoulders, his mouth against Bucky’s temple.  Breeze has blown Bucky’s long hair over his face and he is unrecognizable.  There is a series of them, all of which has Steve’s face, happy with Bucky close to him.  The last picture is of Steve having pulled Bucky close by the waist, capturing his mouth in an intimate kiss.

“Fuck,” Steve rasps out.  “Fuck.”

“It’s a good thing we did when we did.”

“What do I do?”

“I suggest…  Move back home.  Become busy with the wedding plans.”

“What do I tell Bucky?”

Nick studies him, quiet.

“Do you want to be with James, Steve?  We can work through this entire thing.  We are prepared to handle this if you don’t want to leave James.”

Steve looks up at Nick.

“I’ve been studying, too.  The last decade and a half, we’ve been declining so badly that there is no way up and out.  If we get absorbed into Stark, then we will lose everything that we’ve worked so hard to _not_ become.  My grandfather’s and Abraham’s ideals will become nothing more than…  That isn’t something I’m prepared to do.”

“So, you would marry a woman you don’t love for _this_ ,” Nick waves his hand into the air.

“It’s a business arrangement.”

“You’ll lose James in the process.”

“Bucky just needs time to calm down.”

Nick looks at him in that disapproving way Steve’s only ever received from him.

“Think about it before you do anything you’ll regret for the rest of your life, Steve.”

 

Steve wrenches the bottle of liquor from Bucky.

“Do you hate me, Steve?  I’m such a mess.  Why am I such a mess, baby?  Why do you do this to me?”

“Please listen to me.  Please…”

“I love you, Steve.  You love me.  You don’t love her.  You don’t…”

“Bucky…”

Bucky’s head falls over Steve’s shoulder and falls asleep like that.

 

Steve suggests Bucky go on a vacation, free from alcohol and all the stress, with Natasha and Clint.  Natasha chooses a resort in Arizona for them to go to.  Bucky promises to not drink.  Steve kisses his knuckles before letting him go in Clint’s car.

“We’ll talk when you get back.”

Bucky comes back sober, but the dark smudges under his eyes are still there.  Steve studies Bucky for a long time.

Bucky is so thin, hair grown long, framing his face in the way that contours his cheekbones and his chiseled chin.  His eyes are a shade of blue gray Steve still fails to describe correctly.  He’s not a poet or an artist and he can’t capture Bucky’s eyes correctly in any way.  Steve is hoping in that moment he would be happy if he has Bucky looking at him so.  But there is not a smile.  Steve tries so hard to remember the last time Bucky’s smiled at him so beautifully.

Beautiful like… on their first date, where Steve had to try so hard to keep his heartrate down, because Bucky looked at him in that way that had him fighting to remain standing.  Steve would have fallen on to his knees if it was what Bucky wanted of him.  He would have left the world behind.  He is always prepared but Bucky holds him just at an arm’s length, never asking for the thing he really wants, with tears filled to the brims but never falling.

Steve feels selfish for keeping Bucky with him because he’s a coward and can’t let Bucky go.  He is afraid that Bucky would find happiness without him, find someone else to make him smile and laugh and brush back the strands of hair behind his ears.  Someone who can say, yeah, fuck it, let’s move to San Francisco, fuck everything, I want you to go to Berkeley…  Someone who can say, I don’t care about this company, I love you, I want to throw everything away for you. 

Steve can’t do that.

Bucky leans his face against Steve’s palm.

Steve is overwhelmed by the love he has for this man.

“I can’t make you happy, can I, Buck…”

“I’m happy, Stevie…”

Steve takes a deep breath because this is the best thing for Bucky.  Bucky will learn to move on one day and find someone who will make him happy, write beautiful words that inspire people, and…  It’ll hurt right now, but it is the best thing.

“You should break up with me.  You should see other people.  I’m going to marry Hope so we should…  Spend some time apart.”

Steve knows Bucky’s heart is broken at that moment.  He feels his own shattering inside him.

  

\---  

  

Bucky uses Steve’s arm as a pillow, eyes downcast and index finger drawing small circles over Steve’s collarbone.  It’s warm in the room but Steve doesn’t want to move from under the sheets.  Bucky smiles shyly, moist red lips puffy from kisses and everything else they’d done with their mouths in the past hours.  Steve has his free hand around Bucky’s nape, fingers twirling strands of soft locks of hair.

Bucky leans in and replaces his finger with his lips.

“Who made you so perfect?” Bucky asks, breath tickling his skin.

“I am not.”

“I’m failing to see a flaw.”

“They’re there.  You’re not looking hard enough.”

Bucky’s eyes meet his, clear and blue and full of love.  He smiles.  Steve can’t help pressing him down on the mattress, leaning his weight over him.  His mouth seeks the spot of Bucky’s neck that makes him squirm and moan and laugh all at the same time.

“Again, Stevie?  We came like, three times already.”

Steve pauses and faces Bucky.

“Not what I was aiming for.”

“I wouldn’t…  I mean…  If you wanted to, I wouldn’t mind.”

“Don’t think I can.”  Steve admits.  “Maybe in a few hours.  Not now though.  Just want to hold you.  Kiss you.”

Bucky giggles.  “See.  So perfect.”

Bucky’s arms wrap around Steve’s neck.

“So perfect and I’ll never stop loving you.”

“Don’t be so sure.  I’ll make mistakes.”

Bucky’s eyes sear into his.

“Doesn’t matter.  I’ll _never_ stop loving you, Steve.  You can’t ever do anything to make me stop loving you.”

Steve nods.  There isn’t anything else he can do.

“Even if you break my heart…  I’ll still love you.”

“I’ll never break your heart.”  Steve promises.

Bucky’s mouth turns up.

“Stop being so perfect.”

 

\--- 

  

Steve climbs into the car, to pick up Maria then Pepper and Tony to get to the airport.  They have a private jet booked to take them to DC in less than an hour.  The tuxedo is perfectly cut.  As he greets Pepper and Tony outside of their building, his phone vibrates in his pocket.  He answers the call from Natasha.

“Nat?”

“James is in the ER.  He swallowed a whole bottle of pills with a bottle of Jack.”

Steve orders the car to go in the other direction, saying he needs to go to the university hospital Emergency Room.  He runs in to the busy ER, yelling, and screams when the nurse refuses to give him information about Bucky.  He doesn’t see or hear Maria, pulling him away from the nurse’s station.  He doesn’t recognize Pepper or Tony as they try to help.  He needs to see Bucky.

It’s Clint who spots him and calmly pulls him into an embrace.  Clint is in his full gear, looking disturbed.

Clint explains, “James is alive.  Got his stomach pumped.  He’s going to be alright.  He’s sleeping.”

“I need to… I have to, please…”

Steve collapses into the small plastic chair in the lounge, face buried in his hands.  He vaguely hears Clint speaking to the others.  Maria and Pepper sit on either side of him, determined to not leave him alone at this.  Tony tells Pepper he’ll go make some calls to take care of things, to get in contact with Bruce and Hope to tell them that they won’t make it.  Clint goes back into the ICU to find out what is going on.

About an hour later, Natasha walks into the lounge, her face wet and arms wrapped around her front.

Steve pulls Natasha into an embrace, letting her cry silently.  She takes his handkerchief with a tiny smile.  She tells him what happened and Bucky’s call to her, about why they fought and why Bucky felt compelled to leave and be on his own. 

“It was an accident, Steve.  None of this is your fault.”

Steve gives her the most appalled expression he can make.

“He’s not happy.  He’s not happy with you or without you.  Until he gets fixed, he won’t be able to…  Do anything.”

Steve sits with his arm around Natasha’s hunched shoulders.  He’d urged everyone go home for the rest of the night.  Maria had promised to return in the morning with clothes, breakfast and coffee.  Clint has gone home for a nap before he goes in to make up for the shift he’d left in the middle of and the next one.

“I know James.  He’s…  When his parents died, he…  He’s always been a little…  I just never realized that it was…  This bad.”

Steve rubs his hand over Natasha’s shoulder.

“I thought it was the drinks.  I thought it’s the arm…  But he’s…  He needs help.  I didn’t see it…”

Steve bites down on his lip.

“He says he didn’t mean it.  But…  He’s not stupid.  He knows what it means to mix so much…”

Steve clears his throat and wills himself to not let tears fall over.

“I never properly said thank you, Nat, for being there for him.”

Nat’s head falls, her curly red hair obscuring Steve’s view of her face.

“I know you never approved of me and Bucky but…  I guess, I didn’t try hard enough.  I don’t know if anything can change but…  I…  Just… Thank you, Natasha.”

“You did what you thought was best.  I was hoping you guys could work it out but…  I know how difficult he is.”

It’s morning and Maria brings Steve a change of clothes and breakfast with coffee like she’s promised.  Clint stops by for a few minutes to check up on Natasha and drops off bags for her and Bucky.  Around noon, an orderly says they’re moving Bucky out of the ICU.  A thin blue curtain dissects the room in half, covering Bucky’s bed as he sleeps.  Steve lingers at the foot of the bed, staring at Bucky’s face.  His chest tightens at the sight.

Natasha is fussing about the blankets and straightens out the paper-thin gown around his shoulders.  She whispers something against Bucky’s temple, brushing back the hair sticking to his face.  She leaves the room.

Steve doesn’t know what to do other than stare down at Bucky’s pallid face.  After a while, he takes a deep breath for courage and sits in the chair next to the bed.  He watches Bucky’s chest rise and fall steadily.  He memorizes the lines around his eyes and the beginning of creases across his brows.  Steve reanalyzes the shape of his mouth, the arch of his nose and the length of his lashes laying over his cheeks.  The light changes in the room, the shadows moving from one side to the next when Natasha comes back in with Pepper, Tony and Bruce.  Bucky hasn’t stirred and they all remain quiet.  Tony quirks his brow when he meets Steve’s gaze and points his chin towards Bucky’s left side, but Pepper and Bruce pull him back before he could comment on it.

A nurse comes in to check on Bucky and to give them a warning about visiting hours being over in five minutes.  Steve and Nat squeeze into the town car with Pepper, and Tony in the front.  Bruce has remained to speak with a colleague at the hospital.

After dropping Natasha off, walking her to the entrance to make sure she’s in safely, Steve slumps back into the seat.

“I got it.  We can modify the Mark XII and we’ll have a working prosthesis.  But we have to finish the Arc Reactor.”  Tony starts.

“Tony, not now.”  Pepper warns.

“No, no, you cannot stop me.  I understand now and I am already drawing up plans.  The Arc Reactor is the answer to everything.”

“Thank you, Tony.”  Steve says, exhausted.  He supposes he’ll have to go into work tomorrow.

Tony turns around.  “Hey, buddy, if you need anyone to talk to about this…  Pepper is here for you.  And.  Me, too.”

“Thank you.  Both of you.  I need to, um…  I should call Hope.”

“That’s a start.  But she already knows about you and uh, James?”

Steve would be startled by Tony’s insight but no one else knows business more than Tony and Pepper.

“I’ll call her.”  The car pulls up to Steve’s building.  “Thanks guys.  I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Don’t worry if you want to take a day off, Steve,” Pepper suggests.

“No.  I can’t be there when he wakes up.  I can’t do that to him.  I’ll…  See you tomorrow.  Good night.”

  

\---  

  

It’s five in the morning when his cell phone rings.  Steve bolts up, fumbling to open his phone.  It’s Bucky, and Steve winces at the brightness of his phone screen.  The sky is faintly gray blue, invisible birds chirping songs.  Steve had been studying for midterms until midnight and he’d been wanting at least six hours of sleep.

“Buck?”  Steve clears his throat.

“Mom and Dad…” Bucky’s voice is drowning in tears and wakes Steve up entirely.  “Mom… Dad…  Steve…”

“Hey, what happened?”

“There…  There’s been an accident…”

Bucky’s trying hard to explain but starts to sob.

“I’ll be there, okay?  I’ll be there as quickly as possible.”

Bucky doesn’t answer.  Steve hangs up and pulls on a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt.  He stops in the bathroom to splash cold water over his face to completely wake up.  After grabbing his wallet, keys and phone, he runs out of the house.  He gains back enough sanity to go back inside to write Abraham a quick note, saying he’ll have his phone on him, and leaves it on the kitchen table.

Steve’s had his driver’s license for only a few months but he manages to drive to Brooklyn just fine.  It’s too early for commuters’ traffic.  There’s barely any parking on the street when he makes it to Bucky’s, so he bites back curses as he drives around for a free spot.  It takes too long to find one three blocks away, but he parks.  He sprints to Bucky’s and pounds on the door.

A policewoman opens the front door.

“Hi.  Uh…  I’m Steve.  I’m Buck—James’ friend.”

The policewoman lets him in, closing the door behind him.  She doesn’t say anything other than that James is in the living room.  Steve isn’t surprised to see Natasha there.  She’s got her arms around Bucky’s shoulders.  She’s still wearing her flannel pajamas, hair a mess.  There’s no space on the couch for Steve so he kneels in front of Bucky.

“Hey…”  Is all Steve manages to say.

Bucky looks at his face and throws his arms around Steve’s neck, wailing and sobbing.  Steve runs his hand up and down Bucky’s back.  Bucky calms down a little but doesn’t let go.  Steve now notices the other policeman, standing near the kitchen entrance with the policewoman who’d let him in.  They’re talking to each other in low voices, their radio turned down low.  No one tells him what is exactly going on.  Steve doesn’t care.  All he cares about is Bucky.

Natasha’s parents show up half an hour later, and they speak to the police, which Steve is only half listening to.  Bucky is curled up against him and won’t even move.  He won’t even answer to Nat’s mother asking if he wants some coffee or something.  Steve’s phone rings but he doesn’t try to excuse himself when he answers it.  He doesn’t want Bucky to have to move from him.  Abraham tells him he’ll be there as soon as he can, and that he’ll call Steve’s school.

People come and go all day long; Bucky’s friends and other adults who’ve known his parents.  Bucky doesn’t have any other family or relatives in New York.  Natasha answers phone calls, but Bucky refuses to speak to anyone.  All he’s done is sip some water when Steve offers it to him.  At about midnight, Steve asks if he wants to go to sleep.  Bucky doesn’t answer so Steve takes his hand and leads him into his bedroom.  Bucky lies down, suddenly looking terrified.

“Hey, I’m going to get a bottle of water.  I’ll be right back.”

Bucky blinks slowly.

“Stevie?”  Bucky’s voice is clogged and raspy.

“Yeah, Buck?”

“Have I done something wrong?”

“What?  Baby, no…”  Steve sinks into the mattress, wrapping his arms around Bucky.  “You’ve done nothing wrong.”

Bucky’s eyes are huge and wet, lips trembling.

“Why is it…  So hard…?  This?”

Steve doesn’t know what Bucky is talking about but Bucky doesn’t continue.

“Get me some water, Stevie.  I need water.”

“Yeah…  Anything you need.”

 

\---  

  

rain falls  
around me  
but not on me  
perhaps it is on you  
if i could see  
you  
i would know  
and raise this umbrella  
i had prepared for this rain  
over your head  
hush baby don’t cry

  

\--- 

  

_But you did them, Steve._

_Good bye._

Those words echo inside his head.  Bucky is gone.

Because Steve knows he shouldn’t have agreed to a marriage he doesn’t want.

Steve knows he shouldn’t have pushed Bucky away.

Steve knows he had reasons why he did what he did but…

In the empty apartment where Bucky is no longer there…

Steve imagines for the first time what dying would be like.

Steve doesn’t cry.

Steve doesn’t even deserve to cry.

He punches the wall until the landlord bursts in through the front door and gasps in horror.

Steve can’t feel the broken skin and bones of his hand.

There is no world without Bucky, Steve thinks.

There is a red stained hole on the wall.

_But you did them, Steve._

Yes, I did.  So I deserve this.

Steve regrets not being able to tell Bucky to be safe and that he still cares.

Bucky has left everything behind.

Steve goes home with the box of Bucky’s notebooks, filled with poetry and ideas.

Steve reads through all of them, hoping he will be able to find an answer.

Steve realizes his hand is swollen and bones are broken in his hand.

Hope screams in horror at the state he is in.

Steve refuses to move until he’s read through all of Bucky’s notebooks.

Because they keep doing things they think are good for the other but they keep hurting.

  

\---  

  

Maria finally returns his phone to him after the five-hour, no-break Board meeting.  They have unanimously voted Yes to take the Arc Reactor project public.  The first prosthesis prototype had gone public three years ago.  It had been a tremendous positive step for RI with the public and brought in a lot more investors.  Everyone loved it.  Everyone adored RI with Tony and Bruce in the think tank, and Steve and Pepper at the helm.  Now, they will have to make the Arc Reactor technology be known, since it will be the main energy source behind the robotic prosthesis. 

Steve escapes into his office, exhausted.  It’s been days since he’s finally found the courage to text Bucky.  Steve doesn’t expect Bucky to say yes or even want to get together to talk.  He just wants…  He wants to know if they can at least be friends; friends that don’t have to talk through other friends to see how they are doing, ones who can be there when they wake up in a hospital bed.  He’d been staring at the phone so much that Maria had taken away from him.  Steve taps the button to turn it back on.  He expects an email or two in the notification bar but there it is.

<Hi, Steve.  Do you want to meet?>

Steve goes from delighted to anxious to exhilarated to utterly devastated.  The text has come three hours ago.  Steve frantically types out an answer.

“Steve, Tony and Bruce need you.”

“I’ve got…  Something.”

“It’ll take five minutes.”

He stops by for a glass of water as an excuse and promises Bucky he’ll meet him in thirty minutes.  And talking to Tony and Bruce takes longer than five minutes, like he thought it would, but Steve is too polite to say anything.  Bruce has more sense than Tony and his self-involved world, and sets up a meeting with Steve in the morning to continue.  Steve runs to grab his coat and races down for his ride.  The drive takes too long and Steve fidgets and his legs shake with anticipation.

In the diner, he scans around for Bucky.

Bucky.

Steve forgets how to breathe.

He walks over, closer, slowly and sits.  Bucky doesn’t meet his eyes after they greet one another.  Steve takes a moment to turn his head, swiping his fingertips over his eyes.  He tries to explain but says all the wrong things.  Steve becomes exhausted.  He tries sincerity.  He tries honesty.  He tries to make Bucky believe him but he won’t.  Steve just can’t do right by Bucky anymore and it is agonizing.  When was the last time Steve got Bucky to laugh?  He can’t remember.  Maybe he never will…  And Bucky is walking away.  Maybe Bucky is better without him.

And maybe Steve can finally, really give him that.

  

\---  

  

Steve supposes he’s allowed to have a sick day.  Or two.  Or a week.  Steve’s never liked drinking but that’s what he does.  He drinks all the alcohol.  He drunk-texts Bucky before passing out.

Bucky doesn’t love him.

Steve reads through the last text message again, just to see if he can find a single clue or a word that tells him otherwise.  Like Bucky’s poetry.  But they just say…  Bucky doesn’t love him.

Steve feels his heart clench and lungs constrict.

He can’t even blame anyone but himself.

He’s just thought…  that Bucky would always love him and he could crawl back to him whenever and…  No.  It wasn’t like that.

Steve was tired of the repetition of being the cause of anyone’s unhappiness or misery and so he broke his own heart to give back that happiness to the one person who deserved it most; Bucky.  And if Bucky is better and happier, Steve will endure being miserable for the rest of his life.  He still wants to look after Bucky and make sure he’s good and healthy.  Steve wonders if they can be friends again, like before all of this, when they were children, living in the same apartment building, playing together whenever they can, reading, and drawing, and running…

Steve falls asleep and dreams about his childhood days.

When he wakes up, there is an intruder in his house in the form of Tony Stark.  Steve groans and buries his face into the couch cushion.

“Well done, Steve.  I’m proud of you.”

Tony is examining all the empty bottles strewn all over the living room and kitchen.

“I ordered food.  Yummy food.  It’s time to get up.”

“Fuck… off…”

“This from the guy who called out, ‘Language’, during our previous Board meeting?”

“Uggghhh…”

“Speaking of Board.  They are all concerned about you.  Me, not really.  That’s why I was chosen to make you come back to your senses.”

Steve works hard to turn over.  He can still taste the alcohol on his tongue.  He’s unwashed and probably smells.  But Tony is sitting on the coffee table with a smirk.

“Tell your best pal Tony what’s wrong with you.”

Steve groans and tries to turn away.

“Nuh uh.  Nope.  You tell me and I’ll disappear.  I’ll even buy you more alcohol.”

“Shut up.”

“I need alcohol.  I checked.  You literally drank all the alcohol.  How are you still alive?”

“I don’t know.”

It comes out sad and Steve is sober enough to regret saying it.

“What?”

“I don’t know why or how I’m still alive.”

Steve can hear Tony wince.

“Because…  You’re a divorcee who got dumped by his one armed ex-boyfriend, _again_ , whom you’ve spent literally billions to try to help by getting a couple of geniuses to build one awesome cyber-bionic arm for, whom didn’t want it and doesn’t want to see you again?”

“What the fuck?”

“It wasn’t that hard to figure out.”

Tony is smirking and Steve wants to punch him.

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Why not?  It could help.  I could get Pepper?”

“No… Please.  I don’t want anyone else to see me like this.”

Steve sits up slowly.  He leans back heavily into the couch.

“You don’t look that bad.  I was _way_ worse when SI dumped me and Pepper dumped me and Brucey tried to dump me.”

Steve laughs a little at that.

“Why don’t you just go after him?”

“I think it’s better that I don’t.”

Tony tilts his head.  Steve sighs.

“Back when…  Bucky got into Berkeley Grad school but he told me he didn’t.  He ended up not going to grad school so he could remain here, to be with me.  I kept thinking that that was the point where we were falling apart but it goes to…  Bucky’s never been happy.  Not really.  He’s compulsive and he’s always liked to drink, to go out, but…  The only time I can think of when he looked really happy is…  Our first date.”

Tony leans his cheek on his hand.

“Now he’s going to therapy and he’s living a good life without me and…  He’s okay, without me.  He might even be better without me.  He sacrificed a lot for me and I sacrificed him for a lot of things.  But I ended up…  still yearning for him and changing everything I know and worked for, for Bucky, and I still lost him.”

“Why?”

“He said he doesn’t love me.  He doesn’t want me.”

“Were you always the one to tell him that you love him?  Having to repeat it over and over again?”

“Kind of…”

“He never believed in you or your love because he didn’t believe in himself.  You can’t blame yourself for the stuff that’s happened to him.  Grad school, enlisting, losing his arm…  Those aren’t your fault, Steve.  Those are just circumstances.”

“If I’d done things differently…”

“He would still not be happy.  You can’t _make_ him be happy, Steve.  Just like you can’t make me… like myself any less.”

Steve chuckles.  The doorbell rings and food arrives.  Tony goes to open the door.  Steve grabs a garbage bag and throws all the empty bottles into it.  He washes his face and brushes his teeth, changes into clean clothes before joining Tony on the couch.  It’s Indian take-out and smells amazing.

“What do you love so much about this guy anyway?”

“What do you mean?”

“He’s self-destructive and has mental problems…  He’s good looking I guess.  But what is it about this guy?  You can have anyone!”

“That’s just it.  Bucky isn’t just anyone.”

Steve swirls the piece of naan into the mild curry.

“Is it because you can’t have him?  That reverse psychology thing?”

“No, of course not.”

“Then?”

Steve thinks about how to put it into words.

“I always thought he needed me.  But I needed him… Need him more than he needs me.  He knows the worst things about me but he finds new ones and still loves me despite them.”

Steve is surprised at Tony’s smile.

“That is a good answer.”

They eat in silence until most of the food is gone.

“Thank you for talking to me, Tony.”

“Nah.  I just came over because it was boring without you.”

Steve packs away the leftovers.

“I’ll see you at the office tomorrow.”  He tells Tony, walking him to the door.

“Yeah.  If I didn’t mention it, I’m digging the beard.”

“Should I keep it?”

“Ehh…”

“If I still love Bucky, I should do as he wishes and stay away, right?”

“Have you ever said, ‘No’?  Like, ‘No, that’s a bad idea’.  I feel like you don’t know how to say, ‘No’.”

“What do you mean…”

“It’s okay to say that.  That you don’t accept and accommodate.  You’re allowed to want something, even if the whole world is against you.  You say, ‘No, you move’ and you fight against the world for what you want.  There’s bound to be someone who’ll be behind you.  I know I will be, Captain.”

  

To hear Tony, out of everyone else, tell Steve that he can be and do what he wants, it hits him hard.

  

\---  

  

Bucky whispers into his ear.

“I thought the hardest thing to do was losing you.  But finding myself was the hardest thing to do.  Thank you for being with me, for watching out for me as I went through these trials.  Thank you for the time I got to be by myself, without you, learning to live in a world without you.”

Steve whispers to Bucky.

“The hardest thing for me to do was this.  Tell you, No.”

Bucky whispers back.

“I’ve been waiting for you to say, No.”

Steve buries his face against Bucky’s neck.

“If you want to go and meet new people, go out and date, I can’t stop you from doing all of that, in reality.  I just wanted to spend a few more minutes with Bucky who is still mine.”

Bucky’s fingertips are cool against his cheek.

“It’s not your fault, Steve.  None of this is your fault.  Please believe that.”

Steve feels his eyes burn.

“I missed you…”

“I did, too…”

“I won’t make any more promises I can’t keep but…  I didn’t want to live in a world without you…”

“I know what you mean.”

Bucky smiles at him, a little sad, but beautiful.  And Steve knows that it is something he wants to protect for the rest of his life.

Steve pecks Bucky’s mouth.  His skin feels cold.

“Do you want to get something to eat?”

Bucky smiles wider.

“I would love to.”

Bucky’s hand feels perfect in his.

“Tony Stark almost blew up the building today.”

Steve starts his story.  Bucky’s eventual laughter scatters into the wind.  Steve hears his heart pounding again inside his ribs and…  Everything is perfect again.

 

 

.end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't think I would write a second part to this story, but I thought it needed it, for Steve <3\. The second part, Steve's POV, was sort of difficult to write. It dealt with alcoholism, and having grown up around a few and my own past addictions, it forced me to reflect on what sort of abuse I had to deal with and the people around me had to deal with.   
> I know the timelines don't concur with the previous chapter and that's my own mistake. The first part was written on a whim and this part was written around a narrative that wasn't straightforward or cohesive. My apologies for being a terrible writer. If it's any sort of excuse or explanation, I studied/learned play-writing, screen-writing, so I lean heavily on talking and conversation. Narratives need work. :/  
> I would love to hear what you think of this though! I always welcome any kind of constructive criticism. Thank you for reading!


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